One November day, I found a dragon.


I fell in love with him immediately,
of course,
but denied it.
After all,
I'd stopped believing in dragons
years ago.


Faith in dragons
had always ended in disappointment
so I told myself
over and over
(more than and more than)
that he could not be
a real dragon.


Still he continued to fly
and reveal hidden treasures,
grandsubtle and glorious,
and when I'd prod his wings
to make sure they were there,
he never once told me
to stop poking.


He just kept being a dragon.


And, being a dragon,
he lived far, far away
on lands that I did not belong to.
I could not feel his fire -
not in the manner
I so deeply craved.


I did not dare ask it of him
(even though I constantly dreamt of his magic)
yet on wings and unspoken prayer,
across oceans,
my dragon flew to me.


He was so beautiful.
He did not know he was beautiful,
but he was.
Nobody had ever told him before.
Perhaps
a lot of people
are still frightened of dragons.


It is true
that they can be
a bit weird.


Dragons are magnificent,
peculiar, brilliant
and expensive to keep.
They don't fit in
the usual office jobs
and have various
dragony needs,
but they bring wondrous rarities
found nowhere else.
My dragon
holds treasures of words,
and that is truly
priceless.


and I newbelieve -




together




we fly.




___




to jon,
for the wings.

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